Death and Taxes
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: There are two things that are inevitable in both this world and the Underworld. And Charon had to deal with both of them.


_Nothing is certain but death and taxes._

Mortal idiom

**Death and Taxes**

"This is absolutely unacceptable! How can I be dead? I don't have time to die! I'm too busy!"

Charon, the Ferryman, the Watcher of the River Styx, and Lackey of Hades (not his title, but it was what Ares called him) stared at the babbling imbecile before him. He'd served Lord Hades and Lady Persephone for millennia. Over all those years, he'd ferried the souls of millions across the River Styx, to whatever fate awaited them. And nine times out of ten, when it came to the realization that they were dead, they reacted with horror, sadness, or in rare cases, disbelief.

"I assure you, this must be a mistake!" the man yelled. "I can't be dead! You…you've made a mistake!"

But this wasn't disbelief, Charon told himself. This was obstinacy. It was a trait that mortals possessed, which he supposed was why so many demi-gods were wandering about these days refusing to die on the quests they undertook. Also, there was apparently something about living above the clouds apparently made it impossible for Zeus and his sycophants to keep their pants on.

"Are you even listening?" the man yelled.

Charon forced a smile. "Absolutely."

"Oh. Good." The man began poking Charon in the chest, which gave the Ferryman the urge to smash the man's head against one of the rocks by the river and be done with it. "Now then. Since I'm not dead, I want you to return me back to the Land of the Living. I have an entire shipment of wine on its way to Egypt, and-"

"What's your name?" Charon asked.

"Andronicus," the man declared proudly. "Andronicus of Athens, purveyor of the finest wines of the Mediterranean. The-"

"Well, Andronicus, of some little sea I don't really care about, I categorically assure you that you are indeed deceased," Charon said. "Death by drowning, actually."

"What?!"

"Oh yes. Your wines are so fine that you decided to sample them yourself."

Andronicus's cheeks turned pink. Which was odd, considering that his blood shouldn't have been flowing at this point. "I only had one glass…"

"Yes, you did. Or at least you did before your second glass. Then your third. Then your fourth. Then your-"

"Okay, okay, I get it."

"Falling off your boat and drowning isn't the most glorious way to go, but I suppose there's something to be said for water washing away wine. Or I suppose there will be in a few centuries' time."

"Pardon?"

"If it makes you feel any better, your death made your crew very happy," Charon said, glad he hadn't revealed too much about what the Oracle had told him. In fact, they're celebrating in Alexandria right now."

"Okay, I…" Andronicus blinked. "Wait. What?"

Charon fell silent. He was enjoying this far too much, he reflected. Problem was, he had a few more thousand souls to ferry today, and if all of them were as obstinate as the man in front of him, then he might have to find a new line of work.

"It matters not," Charon said. He held out a withered hand. "Payment please."

Andronicus stared at him.

"Payment," Charon repeated, thinking how nice it would be if Hades gave him a cut above the 10% margin for his ferry services. "You give me a coin, I ferry you to the Underworld, I spend my meagre earnings on ambrosia and listen to the lamentations of the damned."

"But…but I don't…I mean…"

Charon sighed and flicked his hand. Out of thin air, a coin appeared in it.

"Well look at this," Charon said. "Turns out you died rich, as well as drunk." He pocketed the coin. "In you go."

The man stared at Charon's robes, as if unable to believe that he'd parted with some currency. Even dead, money made the world go round apparently. "Can't believe this," he muttered. "I can't believe this. I…I can't…"

"My dear Andronicus, if millennia of doing the bidding of Hades has taught me anything, it's that there are two things that are inevitable in this world," Charon said. "One of them is death."

Andronicus stopped babbling. "And the other?" he whispered.

Charon stepped aside and tapped the boat with his scythe. "Taxes. Now get in."

"But I don't want to-"

Charon waved his hand and Andronicus appeared in the boat. His mouth opened and closed, but Charon could no longer hear him. Chances were he would tonight when he ended up in Tartarus, but that pleasure would have to wait. Instead, he turned his sunken eyes to the thousands of mortals that stood in line. Men. Women. Children. Even a demi-god who'd gone afoul of some monster on some quest on the behest of some god or goddess who wanted adoration via murder. Because of course they did.

Sighing, Charon tapped his scythe. "Next!"


End file.
